Through Indigo's Eyes (27 page)

When I lowered my head to sneak a glance at John over by the pool table, I immediately noticed that he was standing awfully close to Amber. They looked as if they were flirting with each other, laughing and clinking beer bottles. My jaw clenched. When had he gotten himself a beer?

“You want to go outside for a smoke?” I said to Sarah.

I waved to John from across the room and held up my cigarette package. He held up his finger as if to say he would join us in a minute. Before we went outside, Sarah made sure she poured us each a drink from her private Coke bottle stash and I made sure I put it in a plastic cup. I would just have one. One wouldn't hurt.

Outside the darkened winter sky showed some large clear patches where stars twinkled. A full moon slipped out from a small cloud cover, and suddenly a grayish blue light lit the back yard. My mother always said that the emergency wards at the hospital were crazy when it was a full moon, which didn't surprise me because the full moon always made me feel weird, too. Often I would lose things or forget something. The temperature was hovering just below freezing, but the air had a damp feel to it. I couldn't wait for that warm front to move in. Sarah and I stood outside shivering, puffing. I hadn't eaten much dinner, so the alcohol Sarah had poured for me was starting to take effect. Her drinks were always so strong.

“Hey,” I said to Sarah as I blew out smoke, “I have a question for you, and I want a serious answer.”

“‘Kay.”

“Do you think Amber is putting the moves on John?”

Sarah burst out laughing and doubled over. “John fricking loves you, Indie. Why would he want Amber? You guys are, like, connected at the hip. You can't even make time for our band anymore because of him.”

I flicked the ashes off my cigarette and stared out at the yard, which was bathed in a blue shadow. Then I stared up at the moon, round and full, illuminating the earth with a chilling and somber gray light.

We dropped the subject of John and Amber and chatted aimlessly about school and music.

My cigarette was almost done when Sarah said, “Holy crap, I almost forgot to tell you. Did you hear the awful news?”

“What?” I slunk deeper into my coat.

“That kid Nathan from our school died over Christmas.”

Shivers ran up one side of my body and down the other. I stood frozen on the porch.

“You know the kid I'm talking about,” said Sarah. “The one who always picked his nose.”

This couldn't be true. A horrible feeling of sorrow surrounded my heart. Even when I was seven and my papa had died, I hadn't been overcome with this type of sadness. This sudden rash of emotions that had exploded in my body created unexpected tears that appeared to sit behind my eyes. I couldn't finish my cigarette—my hands were shaking too much—so I ground it out in the cigarette can. The door slammed, and John walked out onto the porch, hugging his body.

“It's freezing out here.”

I turned to face John. “Nathan died.”

“Nathan?” John furrowed his eyebrows then he looked at Sarah. “The little guy?” Palm down, he put out his hand to around Nathan's height.

“Yeah.” Her teeth chattered as she talked. “I just heard today. So weird.”

“How did he die?” John asked.

“No idea,” said Sarah.

“He wanted to be a violinist,” I said quietly. My knees buckled, and I could hardly stand up. Then the tears from behind my lids started rolling down my cheeks. “He didn't want to die.”

John put his arm around me, and I rested my cheek on his chest. He kissed the top of my forehead. “Let's go back inside,” he said. “It's too cold out here.”

Inside the house, I couldn't stop crying. John and I went into the washroom, and he closed the door. “Indie,” he said soothingly, “it's okay.”

“It's just so sad.” I shook my head over and over. I had heard the man's voice on Christmas Eve. He had tried to tell me something about this. But why? I couldn't have done anything to help. Now that voice just made this all worse. Could I have helped? Was that why I heard the voice on Christmas Eve? But I would have had no way of knowing where Nathan was to phone him and warn him.

What could I have done?

Maybe I hadn't heard the voice. Maybe it had been saying “woman,” not “Nathan.” Like the woman we found in the car by the side of the road.

Why was I given these stupid voices and visions, if I could do nothing about them?

The tears kept coming. And coming. I tried to wipe them away. I felt so stupid for crying so hard. But I couldn't stop myself, because I knew Nathan hadn't wanted to die. He just wanted the other kids to leave him alone so he could play his violin. He'd had something to show the world, and now he wasn't allowed to. He was dead. Dead.

John wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest, holding me, stroking my back. “Why don't you stay with me tonight?”

I snuggled against his chest.

His nose nuzzled my ear when he whispered, “You can sleep over.”

“My mom won't let me do that.” I lowered my head.

He lifted my chin and kissed me, so softly, so gently, and the salt from my tears blended with the sweet taste of his lips.

When we parted, he whispered, “I think you need me tonight. We'll sleep in separate rooms. My mom wouldn't allow anything else.”

Then he released his hold on me and pulled a tissue out of the box that was sitting on the back of the toilet. I accepted it and wiped my eyes.

“Are we going to grad together?” I asked.

“Grad?” He touched my cheek. “Why would you bring that up now?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. Sarah and I were talking about it, I guess. Maybe I'm trying to take my mind off Nathan. He won't get to graduate.”

John stroked my hair. “Of course we're going to grad together. We're going to be together for a long time. Maybe we can move to England next year and live together. I've always wanted to live in London.”

“Are you serious?” I stared into his beautiful hazel eyes. “That would be amazing.”

He kissed my forehead. “Of course I'm serious. Should we call your mom for tonight?”

“Okay,” I nodded.

Once I'd washed my face, John and I went into the kitchen to make the phone call. “Mom,” I squeaked out the words as I played with the telephone cord, “can I sleep at John's tonight?”

Silence on the other end. I waited.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Indie.”

“Please. We're not going to sleep in the same room.”

More silence. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not much.”

“Are you crying?”

“A little. But, Mom—”

“I'm coming to pick you up right now.”

“No! Mom. Don't.”

When my mother arrived at the party, I wanted to vomit. No matter how I pleaded, she said I had to get in the car. She made me put on my shoes and my coat, and she opened the front door and made me go to the car. Why was she ruining everything? John just wanted to comfort me, hold me. We could have talked about Nathan all night.

I slouched in the front seat and refused to talk to her, and I most certainly didn't tell her about Nathan, because I was just so mad at her. If I had to suffer, she was going to suffer, too. She went on and on about how this was going to be something I thanked her for later, when I wasn't pregnant at 17.

When we got to our house, I slammed the car door and said, “Nothing would have happened.”

I stalked into the house. When I was in the kitchen, I couldn't contain myself any longer. “How could you do this to me?” I yelled. “You embarrassed me in front of my friends and John. You ruined my night!”

Then I started sobbing. “I won't get to kiss John at midnight!”

I stormed to my room and threw myself on the bed. Mom knocked on my door a few times, and I told her to go away. I heard the television downstairs announcing midnight, music and revelers ringing in the New Year with kazoos. I cried so hard my shoulders shook.

I had missed my kiss because of my stupid overprotective mother. I sat up in my bed. Was he kissing Amber now?

A little while later, I heard a knock on my door again.

“Indie,” my mom said from the hallway.

“Go away.”

“I just talked to John's mother, and she said it would be okay for you to stay there in the spare room. She told me about that boy Nathan. I'm sorry, honey. I'm sure this is a shock for all you kids. I can drive you back to the party. John's mother said a lot of the kids are sleeping over to talk about this.”

The ride back wasn't any more vocal than the ride home had been. I was still so mad that she had ruined my New Year's kiss. I wiped the tears from my cheeks, willing myself to stop crying. When we got back to the house, I opened the car door a crack. Cold air drifted into the vehicle. I hesitated for a second, then I turned to look at my mom. Her face was a mess of wrinkled worry lines.

“I'm not a child anymore,” I said. “John is my life now.”

“I said I was sorry, Indie.”

“Mom, you have to let me go and live my life.”

“I know. I just worry.”

I reached over and touched her arm. “Don't worry about me anymore. I'm fine.” I paused. “Mom, I love him. And he loves me back. He will protect me.”

Then I got out of the car and walked toward the house without even a glance back.

 

Chapter
Sixteen

School started the following Monday. As the meteorologists had predicted, the weather had changed and freezing rain was falling from an extremely gray sky. Every radio and television station was talking nonstop about the weather and how to drive with caution and watch your footing when walking and blah, blah, blah. I had listened to the news but only to find out if the city buses were still running, and unfortunately they were. No buses would have meant school was canceled. That was all I really cared about. But no go. We usually got one snow day a year, but with the buses still running, it wasn't going to be today.

With my backpack slung on my shoulder, I stepped outside and immediately slid on the sidewalk. Of course, I wasn't wearing shoes with any type of treads. I righted myself and stood for a few seconds to absorb the world around me. The air was still and serene, and there was no wind at all. The rain fell quietly from the sky, almost misty, and it felt soft. I knew I was standing on the ground, but I felt as if I were floating. I liked the feeling, because it was so surreal; it was like visiting a different planet. Ice was starting to coat tree branches and telephone poles. The world looked mystical and eerie.

Then a horn honked that shook me back to reality. I had to get to school.

As I walked slowly to the bus stop, each step an effort to stay standing, I continually looked around me. I knew I should have been looking at the ground to keep my footing, but I couldn't help staring at what was happening. Crystal-clear ice coated the branches of the trees and telephone poles, and they looked so stoic and magical. This was like being on a futuristic movie set.

I did notice that some of the smaller branches on the trees were already starting to bend toward the ground, which meant they could snap off. Cars drove slowly down the roads, tires spinning, and quite a few were already on the side of the road because of fender benders.

The bus was late, but that was to be expected. Once it arrived, it lumbered slowly along its route, the driver obviously nervous about the road conditions. People who got on immediately shook their heads to get rid of the ice that coated their hair. My mind traveled and my thoughts raced. Now, instead of thinking about how pretty the world looked, I thought about Nathan. He wouldn't be at school today. He wouldn't be at school ever again. I could see his face in my mind, and I wondered what had happened to him. Sometimes, the world was just hard and cold, like the ice.

By the time the bus had stopped by the school, I was in a panic. I had to find out what had happened to Nathan.

I went inside as fast as I could, but to avoid slipping again, I had to move a lot slower than I wanted to.

None of my friends really knew how Nathan died. All anyone could tell me was that he drowned. I needed details. I had to know the exact way in which he died.
Why
did he die?

“Excuse me,” I said, when I entered the guidance office. I ran my finger through my hair to get rid of the ice.

The woman working reception glanced at me over the rim of her reading glasses. I didn't know her name because I rarely went into the office.

“I heard about Nathan Carroll,” I said. “Can you tell me how he died?”

She continued to look at me as if I were some alien from outer space.

Normally in this kind of situation, I would back down and leave, worried that I was making a scene. Today, I didn't care.

“I'm—I
was
his friend. I need to know. It's important. Please.”